


two tickets to paradise

by inkk



Category: Guns N' Roses
Genre: Alternate Universe - Music Store, Blow Jobs, Christmas, Hurt/Comfort, Light Angst, M/M, Prompt Fill, shitty childhoods are shitty, this is a chosen names only zone
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-26
Updated: 2020-12-26
Packaged: 2021-03-10 20:14:41
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,597
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28332954
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/inkk/pseuds/inkk
Summary: Izzy would give Axl the goddamn moon, if it would make him a little less fuckin’ sad all the time.
Relationships: Axl Rose/Izzy Stradlin
Comments: 2
Kudos: 33





	two tickets to paradise

**Author's Note:**

> this was supposed to be for [ficmas](https://www.rockfic.com/viewstory.php?title=two+tickets+to+paradise&storyid=35190&numchapters=1&category=Guns+N+Roses&author=inkk&m=f&ratinglist=&genrelist=&bandlist=) (prompt: **Sex in a record store on Christmas Eve in Lafayette, Indiana. Would prefer if one of them works at the store. Legal age only.** ), but i missed the submission deadline. whoops!  
> pacing is admittedly weird, and there's very little actual sex. (honestly ... this is the most nonsexual-sexual story i've ever written. wtf.)  
> 

+

It’s nearing nine o’clock when the door chimes again, alerting Izzy that a customer has entered the store. He exhales a soft, put-upon sigh and flips the page of his magazine, not bothering to swing his feet down from the cash desk right away.

“We close in ten minutes,” he says idly.

“I know.”

Izzy’s gaze flicks up from the article he was reading, finding a shock of copper hair and two muddy green eyes staring right back at him. “Axl?”

“Hey, Izz.”

“The fuck are you doin’ here?”

“Thought I’d buy some records.”

Izzy watches him stalk further into the store, his puffy blue winter jacket swishing with the motion. His shoulders are squared, as if he’s expecting Izzy to come physically hassle him into leaving.

Izzy’s face stays blank, impassive. “We both know you ain't got the money.”

Axl rolls his eyes, his expression slipping into a scowl. “I’m browsing, then. Shut the fuck up.”

Izzy just looks back down and turns another page, even though he’s not really reading the magazine anymore. He stares at the tear-out poster of Steven Tyler for a long moment — wailing into a microphone, head tilted back with his mouth open wide — and waits. It doesn't take long before Axl pipes back up again.

“It’s my dad,” he finally says, breaking the silence. “We— There was a fight.”

Izzy’s head lolls a tiny bit to the right. “Bad?”

Axl's shoulders lift in a shrug, but his face is turned away so Izzy can't see his expression. “Guess so.”

Izzy scoffs, shakes his head. “Merry fuckin’ Christmas.”

“Yeah,” Axl agrees listlessly. “What about you, huh? Why're you workin’ so late?”

Izzy looks back down at Steven Tyler for a long moment, then sighs and sets it aside. He swings his legs down from the counter, letting them dangle off of his stool. He thinks of the TV dinners sitting in his freezer back home. “Not like I had anywhere else to be.”

Axl turns to look at him, properly this time. His face is kind of pinched, his eyes darting side-to-side, all skittish and nervous-like. “You lockin’ up alone tonight?”

Izzy nods once, slowly. 

Axl licks his lips. “Maybe— Maybe you could give me a ride home,” he says.

Even from this distance, Izzy can see the way his freckles cheeks are blooming bright pink, his eyes flicking away as he turns to keep flipping through the clearance bins.

“Your home or mine?”

Another pause. Axl picks a record out, holds it up, then puts it back and keeps flipping. “Yours,” he clarifies.

Izzy crosses his arms. He lifts one heel to rest on the bottom rung of the stool, his thighs splaying wide. “I can do that.”

Axl’s shoulders seem to relax the slightest bit. Izzy lets him keep searching through the bins for a moment, then lazily gets up from his stool and snatches the keys from the hook behind the register. It’s still five minutes before closing time when he locks the front doors, but Izzy’s not worried; his last customer came in way back at five and the store’s been dead since. It’s nine at night on Christmas Eve, for fucks sakes. Anybody with half a brain and a stable family life is probably tucked away at home with the wife and kids by now, singing carols or hanging stockings or putting out milk and cookies, or some festive bullshit like that.

“C’mon,” Izzy says, tugging at the fabric of Axl’s jacket as he passes by. He doesn't have to look back to know Axl is following him to the back room. 

They've done this routine before. As always, Izzy waits for Axl to close the door behind them before allowing himself to turn around. He lets his voice drop a little softer in the quiet when he speaks — “Seriously, you okay?”

Axl takes a second to choose his words. He shakes his head and looks down at the floor, shiny copper hair obscuring his eyes. “It’s fine,” he says. “‘M fine, it’s just…”

His voice catches a little as he trails off. Izzy’s jaw clenches at the sound, feeling that familiar white-hot spark of anger reignite between his lungs. He’s never fully understood the relationship Axl has with his dad, but he’s pretty sure he doesn't need to; doesn't even want to, really. Fucking cunt.

The back room is small enough that he only needs to take two steps forward before he’s got Axl in his arms, hugging him tight.

“Sorry,” Axl says, his voice coming out sort of muffled against Izzy’s bony shoulder. “‘M sorry for comin’ here, I’m just— I needed somewhere to stay, I didn't know where else to go.”

“S’fine. You can always crash with me, you know that.”

“I know. But still.”

“I know.”

They stand there for a second longer, just clutching at each other. When Izzy finally shifts backwards, Axl still doesn't let go; he back himself up against the door and pulls Izzy in again, shoving their lips together in a clumsy kiss.

Izzy’s hands fly up to Axl’s neck, his thumbs finding Axl’s pulse on both sides. He can feel the shift and work of Axl’s jaw against his own, can smell the soap on his skin and the hot glide of his tongue. He revels in it.

“Just make me forget for a second,” Axl mumbles against his lips. “Please, Izzy. I just wanna be distracted.”

“Axl…”

“I’m serious, Izz.”

Izzy pulls apart to breathe for a moment, just leaning his forehead against Axl’s. The back room is dimly-lit and cold, and his own hands look shockingly pale where they rest against Axl’s skin. He licks his lips and nods. “‘Kay,” he says softly.

He leans in and kisses Axl again, softer this time. Chastely. It’s barely a brush of lips, and then he takes a tiny half-step backwards and says, “I’m gonna—” and drops to his knees; quickly, before he can think better of it.

Axl’s breathing catches audibly. He swallows hard as Izzy fumbles to get his belt out of the way. He has to really yank at the zip to get Axl’s fly open, then gracelessly tugs his Levi’s and tighty-whities down enough that he can — shit, no looking back now — wrap a palm around Axl’s soft dick.

“Shit,” Axl chokes out. One of his hands snaps out to grab the metal shelf to his right.

Izzy gives him a few strokes, slow and tight, giving Axl’s dick a chance to stiffen in his palm before leaning in to lave his tongue over the crown. He’s only ever given a handful of blowjobs in his life, but it's not like Axl’s ever complained.

“You better not fuckin’ choke me,” Izzy mutters, looking up for a second before leaning in to properly seal his lips around Axl’s dick.

He only gets about halfway before he chokes and has to pull back. Axl’s not exactly huge in the size department — he’s a scrawny one, always has been — but Izzy’s got a tough motherfucker of a gag reflex and he panics, sometimes, when his throat closes up like that. He tries to hold his breath and take it slower, sort of just holding Axl’s dick in the one hand while he clumsily tries to bob his head. He’s already starting to drool, the viscous spit sliding down to his knuckles. It’s a little too rushed and mechanical to be sexy in the slightest.

The whole thing seems kind of bizarre, Izzy thinks. Kind of weird. But here he his: on his knees, sucking Axl off in a store room on Christmas Eve. The soft, shaky sigh Axl makes is still better than any Midnight Mass sermon he’s ever heard.

“Izzy,” Axl breathes again, sounding pained and sweet. His unoccupied hand is twitching wildly in the air at his side like he’s looking for something to hold onto, so Izzy grabs it with his own, tangling their clammy fingers together.

It’s not really even a good blowjob, Izzy thinks; too sloppy and hesitant, and he has to halt every few minutes just to catch his breath. He’s thinking too hard to really get in the rhythm of it — about the snow falling outside and Axl’s shitty excuse for a father and the two of them, alone again on Christmas-fuckin’-Eve, seeking comfort any way they can.

If Izzy could afford to buy a pair of plane tickets to Los Angeles, they’d be gone by Boxing Day.

Hell — he’d give Axl the goddamn moon, if it would make him a little less fuckin’ sad all the time.

But he can't, because he’s stuck on the ground in Lafayette, working two minimum-wage jobs to get by, and he can't afford to give Axl anything. All he has to offer is a clumsy blowjob, a TV dinner, and a ratty mattress on the floor.

He lets Axl come in his mouth, even though he hates the taste. He swallows it down and wipes his chin and tucks Axl back in his pants before he stands back up. It makes him feel dirty — always does — but it's cleaner this way, and worth it to see Axl’s knees shake.

Axl makes a grab for Izzy’s dick, but Izzy just brushes him off. “Later. I gotta go lock up.”

His hand lands on the doorknob with the intent to go count the till and close the store down properly, but Axl stops him, pulling him in for another kiss.

“Merry fuckin’ Christmas, Izzy.”

Izzy’s mouth tilts into a smile.

“Merry fuckin’ Christmas, Axl.”

+

**Author's Note:**

> haven't posted any gnr in a solid while, & i gotta say....... it was nice to get back to writing about my boys !!  
> as always, come say hi on tumblr @[newsteds](http://newsteds.tumblr.com) ... & happy holidays !! ♥️


End file.
